Writhing on the window, her back to the glittery city, the brunette rocker's world is rocked by the woman between her legs. 'I'm flying, but I don't know where,' she'd told her, over drinks. 'The album's about that.' Shit. Too much. The comments will be- Instead, a whisper in her ear: 'I know.' Clawing, back arching. Her soul leaps. DING-dun . The seatbelt light. She pulls up the
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